


The Big Score

by BountyHunterBro



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BountyHunterBro/pseuds/BountyHunterBro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small group of bounty hunters make a routine bust, only to discover an underworld of criminal conspiracies, politics, and general mayhem. Can they uncover the truth, lock up the guilty, and make enough imperial credits to retire early?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The Knothole Nest_

_Logger Camp 37-T_

_Cardooine_

 

"Seriously though, Dar. When's the damn mark gonna show up? The food here tastes like slag, and I'm not even allowed to smoke in here."

"Have a beer, you big crybaby." 

A gloved fist slammed on a dirty table. "THERE IS NO FRAGGIN' BEER! Apparently the fine folk running Cardooine Logging and Carpentry thinks that if one of these stupid hicks fell out of a tree it would be some sort of great loss, so there's no drinking permitted while in the treetops. I'm stuck here watching a bunch of stupid half-wookies gawk at a video screen like their life depends on it."       

"I thought you liked swoop races?"

"Not this garbage. No hazards, no speed, no risks, no serious crashes. I mean they have blasted restrictions on engine noise. RESTRICTIONS ON HOW FRAGGIN' LOUD YOUR ENGINE IS, FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD."

"Well suck it up, then. This guy, Jafan Brandes, he's a friend of Harend's. He knows where Harend is hiding. If he can confess to you, then you can book him as an accessory to the embezzling by not helping the official corporate investigation. That's a nice 750 credit bonus which you could keep, so try to bring the guy in."

"Whatever." The comlink shut off, and slid back onto Crix Horne's belt. He grunted as he tried to lean backward against the stiff booth backing, only to awkwardly slouch down. He was a rough character: messy red hair, facial stubble, a dark leather vest with a great big skull on the back, and scuffed combat boots with a steel tip. He smelled of tobacco and blaster gas. On his right hip was a Theed Arms S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol, nicely fit in an unstrapped holster. On his left, a pair of stun cuffs. 

                Crix took a deep breath as he looked to his right. The loggers were all fixated on the swoop race, cheering and whooping as their favorites to win rounded the corner. Normally he would have at least made the effort to enjoy it, but he was here on business. Cardooine Logging and Carpentry had been reporting a major embezzler, someone stealing wood straight out of the mill. Corporate investigations pointed to a Gar Harend, who all but vanished when found out. The logging company asked his friends, but couldn't crack them without risking earning the wrath of the Logger's Union and getting caught up in a messy lawsuit. So, looking for someone not bound by corporate procedures, they went and hired Sentinel Freelance Solutions, who in turn sent out Crix to get a lead on where Harend was hiding.

               And that was how one Crix Horne found himself stuck in a third-rate diner mounted high in the Cardooine treetops. The fifth leg of the Cardooine Grand Tour was tonight, and there was a good chance Harend's friend Jafan Brandes would show up to watch. His droid, R5-F0 was outside with the other droids not allowed in the bar, playing lookout. When Brandes arrived, Crix simply had to grab him, get the location out of him, and then haul him back to the ship where the rest of the crew was waiting. Seemed simple enough.

                It was the third quarter of the race when Crix's comlink let out a familiar harsh screech. He got up and made for the door, eager to be moving. He stood there in front of the big wooden door as it swung open to reveal a short, mustachioed, balding man. The contrast was quite glaring, with Crix standing a good foot over the diminutive Brandes. "Jafan Brandes?" Crix asked as he watched the color drain and shock cover the man's face. He gripped him roughly by the shoulder with his left hand. "We need to have a little chat." 

                He forcibly stepped forward, shoving the lesser man back several steps outside the diner while still holding onto his vise grip. Brandes tried to break free, but caught a stiff right hand for his efforts. Enjoying the catharsis with the one punch, Crix quickly applied another, straight to the little man's cheek. He let go of his shoulder before delivering a massive right hook, sending Brandes stumbling onto the ground into a parked airspeeder. Crix walked over, picked him up, spun him around, and slammed him facefirst into the airspeeder's hood. He picked the battered and bruised man back up, pulling his hands behind his back and applying the stuncuffs.

"Y-y-you can't... Th-th-the union..." Crix slammed him into the hood of the speeder again. Whoever owned the the heap of junk probably wouldn't mind a little bloodstain, it'll probably make for a good story. At least, that's how Crix justified it to himself as he slammed him into the hood again, breaking Brandes's nose. He drew his blaster pistol and pressed it firmly against the side of the man's head.

"Does your union protect you from this, motherfragger? Huh?" He pushed it up against Brandes harder, just to tighten up the pressure. "You know what I want. Give me Gar Harend."

"B-b-b-but..." 

"I HAVE HAD NOTHING TO SMOKE OR DRINK FOR TWO HOURS. DO NOT FRAGGING TEST MY PATIENCE YOU STUPID, INBRED, WOOKIE-LOVING MOTHERFRAKKER," Crix snarled between clenched teeth.   

"Tourist district! Grand Cardooine Hotel! Suite 714! Waiting for a ride that comes the day after tomorrow!" Crix eased up on the man, pulling him back. He threw the handcuffed Brandes down on the ground, and squatted over him, blaster in hand. 

"You telling the truth?" 

"Honest!"

"Better be," Crix said as he stood up. "Otherwise I'll hand you over to a friend of mine. Barabel. Used to work for the Hutts. He knows how to get the truth out of a man." He took out a cigarillo and lit it up. "Come on R5. Let's get this sucker back to Momma." A few beeps and whistles went off as a jet-black astromech droid with a pale dome wheeled itself out of the shadows. It popped up a little antenna from its dome, and gave a quick beep as Brandes spasmed and howled in pain. "Dammit R5, I already busted up the mark's nose. Don't zap him; I'm not hauling his stupid ass back to Momma if he passes out." He pulled up dirty, bruised and bleeding Brandes. "Come on, you sack of bantha fodder. Don't make R5 zap you again." Almost as if it was a joke, the astromech droid let out another beep and gave another quick shock to Brandes. Reluctantly, he started walking. 

Crix smiled as he inhaled the smoke. All of that pent-up frustration was gone now. All he had to do was go to Dar, tell him the location, throw Crix in the cell, and then he could go hit a real bar. All in all, it was a pretty good night.

               


	2. Chapter 2

_Dock 27_

_Logging Camp 37-G_

_Cardooine_

                The _Big Momma Cool_ was a bit of a rough fit in the “small freighter” docks. It had the standard blocky, front-heavy design of other Corellian HT-2200s. However, the four cargo bays in the front were significantly larger, and were merged all together to create a single large cargo bay that was refitted into a hangar bay for three small starfighters. In order to keep it from being excessively front-heavy, additional thrusters rounded out the back. While other HT-2200s may have been pirate bait, the _Big Momma Cool_ would be a nasty surprise for any would-be pirate in the form of those three fighters.

Meanwhile, in the cockpit, an irritated man tapped his fingers. “He called in just a bit ago. What in Malachor is taking that guy so long?” Darro Tille was a firm, no-nonsense type. He’d put in three years of service in the army as a rifleman, and spent a good seven years on the Coruscant Security Force as a detective. He certainly looked the part: his face had the wrinkles and marks of age, and his thinning hair was already grey. He liked to blame it on the stress: first the war, then the bum leg, then the work, then the divorce. Currently the source of his agitation was one Crix Horne.

He pulled out his pipe, stuffed it and lit it. Breathing in the smoke, he celebrated the fact that Two-One was off keeping R4 company during fighter maintenance. That damn medical droid hounded him like his ex-wife, bugging him about his annual promise to quit. At least Two-One was polite about it. Then again, the damn droid was polite and upbeat over pulling pieces of a broken beer bottle from one mark’s rear end. It was kind of creepy, honestly.

Darro felt his comlink buzz. Looking up, he saw Crix waving to the cockpit, lit up by his own cigarillo, out by the landing pad. He had what he assumed was Brandes with him, with a wonderful array of colors. He didn’t even notice the droid, but knew he was there just by seeing Brandes jump in pain. He flicked a switch, and the hangar bay doors opened up.

Inside the hangar, a short whine was heard as R4-C6 quickly skittered away. Crix forced Brandes into the hangar area, pushing him forward. Meanwhile, a skeletal humanoid droid walked over to greet them. “Ah, master Crix, it is so good to see you have returned!”

“Nice to see you too, Two-One.”

“It appears this man is suffering from a broken nose, multiple bruisings, and severe emotional distress. Shall I treat him, sir?”

“Yeah, whatever. Gotta wait for someone to go down and move his sorry ass to a holding cell though.”

                As if on cue, the ship doors slid open to reveal a large reptilian alien, grinning widely. “I’ll be taking thingsss from here, thank you very much.” The brown-scaled smiler stood even taller than Crix, with teeth like tiny knives. He gripped the trembling man firmly, but not nearly as harsh as Crix. He pulled the man away, with R5 and Two-One following him.

“You got him, Skulrakh?” Crix asked.

“I’ll take care of him, yesss.” The reptilian alien nodded as he led the man away. “And you?”

“Same thing I do after every job,” Crix said, walking over to a bright red speeder. “I get on my BARC, find myself a bar, and celebrate the bonus that’s gonna fall into my lap.”

                The lizard shrugged. “Sssuit yourssself.” He led the man through a door in the back of the hangar before making a hard right into another door. It opened, revealing a small room the size of a small pantry. It was adorned with nothing more than a small toilet and a bunk bed. “Pleassse, make yourssself at home,” he said, guiding Brandes into the room, “I sssimply need to regissster you with the captain.” He backed out of the room as the door slid shut. He typed in a short key code on the outside, and the door locked itself. Skulrakh headed down the hall and up a ladder before heading to the ship’s cockpit. “Prisssoner isss ssstored, bossss.”

“Great,” Darro said, his pipe slowly dying out. “I’ve just told Kar to get the landspeeder and keep tabs on Crix, drive him home if he gets too hammered. Also she’s gonna pick up some of the planet’s special whiskey.”

“Ssso that leavesss me on guard duty?”

“You saw the mark. He’s not gonna run anywhere. Just keep the poor bastard from having a total mental breakdown or something worse. Verify what he told Crix.”

“Can do, bosss.” The lizard smiled, flashing his teeth to Darro before turning around and heading back down to the holding cells.

Calling for Two-one, he unlocked the door. Brandes was there, squirming uncomfortably on the bed. Skulrakh smiled, but it didn’t seem to calm the battered man. He strode up to Brandes, flipping him over and undoing the shock cuffs. As Two-One walked in, the droid made an observation. “It appears that I must add minor electrical burns to this patient’s diagnosis. Should I begin treatment now?”

“Ssssshure thing, Two-One.” He squatted down facing Brandes, looking him in the eye as Two-One began swabbing at the blood. “Pleasssssure to meet you. My name isss Ssskulrakh. I’m from Barab. You?”

“I already told your man the truth, please, don’t-“ Brandes’s plea for mercy was met with laughter.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve hurt enough people working for the Huttsss. I jussst need to confirm what you’ve told usss.”

“Tourist district. Grand Cardooine Hotel. Suite 714.”

“Grand Cardooine Hotel, isssn’t that a bit exssspenssssive for a logger?”

“I don’t know how Gar got the room. Just that he’d be hiding there and he told me to meet him there tomorrow after work.”

“Well, I’m afraid that appointment will have to be moved to a later time. You will ssstill sssee your friend, but you will not be leaving this ssssship. We have you booked asss an accesssory to misssappropriation of corporate resssourcesss.” Brandes’s face sunk. “Don’t feel ssso bad! I wasss sssentenced to life. But I ssstill turned my life around and got releasssed. You’ll probably do the sssame. You don’t look like that nasssty of a man to me. If you can go a year or two without killing anyone, you’ll be fine.”

“You really think so?”

“Maybe. Or the other inmatesss will think you’re an easssy target, ssso they ssskin you and eat your flessssh. It’sss kind of a luck-basssed thing, you know?” Brandes went pale, and Two-One paused to observe the change. “Honessstly, I’d be hitting the gym if I were you, buddy. Put on sssome mussscle masss.” He hissed in amusement as he got up and walked out of the room.

Upstairs in the cockpit, he met with Darro again. “Everything check out?”

“Yeah. Crix messsed the poor guy up quite a bit. Nothing he can’t recover from though. I’m more worried about what the R5 unit did with the ssshock cuffsss. Thossse burnsss could lassst a bit longer.”

Darro scoffed. “Damn thing’s a pint-sized sociopath. Fits Crix fine, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You really are too hard on him. Why sssend him out to a dry ssspot like that? You knew he’d jussst get mad. Why not me or Kar?”

“Because”, he responded, “The loggers here are all human. You or Kar would stick out like a sore thumb. Plus I figure sooner or later he’ll have to teach himself some restraint.”

Skulrakh nodded.. “Are you going to clossse up for the night?”

Darro looked out the window. “Yeah, might as well. Kar will probably get R4 to open the door for her when she gets back.” He turned around and flipped a switch. The large hangar doors slid shut for the night, and _Big Momma Cool_ finally went to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Flapjack Firron’s Bar and Grille_

_Logging Camp 37-G_

_Cardooine_

                The swoop race was over, and most of the reveling loggers had gone home for the night. All that remained were a few old friends and a jukebox droid humming out a slow blues tune. The smoke of the night slowly was filtering out into the night sky, as the bartender idly cleaned a glass.

Arriving a bit late was the Iridonian Kar Heh, her hair wrapped back in a neat ponytail and her horns covered with a cap. She wore old combat fatigues, hands firmly in pockets. Scanning the joint, she spotted her prey over at the bar, beer mug in his hand. She sat down next to him. “Having fun?”

                Crix shrugged. “I thought this was supposed to be a wilder joint than the Knothole Nest. Guess I was wrong.” Kar nodded. She motioned to the bartender and ordered a glass of ice water. “Looks like they sent you to drive me home?” Kar sighed begrudgingly. “Yeah, I know, don’t tell me about it. Trust me, this stakeout was boring enough that you’d think Dar would just give it to you. The morons there were just looking at a damn vid-screen anyway.”

                Kar took her drink from the bartender and looked back at him. “Sometimes I feel like he’s trying to hold me back. You think it’s because I’m a girl?”

                “Nah,” Crix answered, “probably because he thinks you’re a kid. A kid with a rich and powerful dad, at that. Not someone you want to get on the wrong side of.”

                Kar rolled her eyes. “Please. My dad’s a retired shock boxer. He’s so punch drunk and concussed that he needs droids to find anything that isn’t in his pockets. He’s harmless.”

                Crix shrugged. “Still has money and connections. That’s not something I want to mess with.” Kar laughed, and took a swig of her water. “Not that I’m scared or anything. I could just see that sort of thing coming back to haunt me, you know? One thing you learn real quick in this business is to pick and choose your battles.”

“So that’s why you threw a decorated military veteran down a flight of stairs?”

Crix stopped. He took a large swig of his beer and turned to face Kar, who didn't realize the mistake she made. “OK. First off, that ‘decorated military veteran’ was my dad. Second, he was a real scumbag piece of slag. Forgets my birthday, never comes to my school’s events, never watched my games, but was quick to get his belt if I stepped out of line even once. So I think when he winds up in a wheelchair after he breaks his leg trying to fix our neighbor’s roof, I’m entitled to a little payback.” Kar nodded grimly, hoping not to press the issue. “Oh, and the kicker? Signs me up for the military without ever telling me! So yeah, frag that guy. ‘Decorated veteran' my ass.”

“So I get to be the one to listen to you vent your anger issues tonight?” Kar asked, kind of innocently. Crix loved to focus on the negative things in his life, it was no secret. But normally he threw his little temper tantrums around Skulrakh or his own droid.

“Hey, frag off. You think it was fun listening to Dar talk about his ex-wife?”

“That’s what I can listen to back on the ship.”

“Well you’re more than welcome to head back there.” Crix gestured dramatically with his beer glass, pointing at the door.

“You know damn well I can’t leave you here. If you crashed your bike and died on the way back, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

                Crix dismissed her concerns with a flippant wave. “Come on, you really think he’d miss me that much? Do you think anyone would miss me that much? I’m a dead man walking. Dishonorable discharge, multiple felony assaults, serial arson, attempted patricide, none of that stuff looks good in an obituary unless it’s followed up with the guy who shoots you getting a medal. Face it, I’m not a likable guy.”

                Kar squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Crix was never happy when he was drinking alone. Sure, he was friendly when he was out with other lowlifes and there were plenty of other vices for him to pick from, but when it was just him and alcohol, it turned into an awkward therapy session with him and whoever had gotten caught in the way. Daddy issues, uncontrollable temper, impulsive behavior, he could never shut up about them when he was alone and drunk. As far as Kar was concerned, Crix had all the makings of a Sith lord, but none of their legendary charisma.

“Look,” she said as a saving throw, “you’re the only one that psycho droid of yours even remotely respects. So as long as he’s gonna be useful, so are you.”

                Crix rolled his eyes. “Real fraggin' encouraging there, Kar. Suddenly I am now worth about as much as a second-hand droid I bought from a shady old guy behind a bar. That's what, 50 credits? That really makes me want to think of myself in a better light. Hey, maybe you could run for senate, since you’ve got such a way with words.”

                The sarcasm struck a note with Kar. She stared into her water, spinning the glass to watch the ice cubes twirl. “You know, my dad actually told me I could be a senator one day. Said the entire galaxy was mine for the taking. Of course, after the Clone Wars and the new Empire he shut up about that. Never was a fan of Palpatine. I didn’t mind. Never did want to be in the senate anyway. Figure being a prostitute would be more respectable. At least whores actually satisfy the people who pay them.” She heard a scoff from Crix. Looking up, she could see him suppressing a smile. “You’re not the only one who has issues with authority, you know.”

                Crix finally gave in and let his lips pull back into a grin. “I’m from Naboo, planet of the boot-lickers. The Emperor himself was born there, so it’s easy to see where he got the start. Everyone loves to do what they’re told and kiss up to the Queen and the veterans and everyone who fought the Trade Federation. Hell, we even treat the Gungans like they’re worth a damn because of that whole war twenty or so years ago.”

                Kar tilted her head in curiousity. “What’s a gungan?” she asked, unaware that she just stepped on a landmine.

                “Well,” Crix suddenly snapped as if he had already recorded his speech, “let me tell you everything you could ever possibly want to know about gungans.” What followed were hours upon hours of stories from Crix. First it was stories of the bizarre, eccentric, and often infuriating gungans, then to his childhood, his antics in the military, and even his days as a miscreant lowlife on Naboo. As Kar listened to his rants and raves about his scummy upbringing, minutes turned into hours. Before long, the bar had closed, and the iridonian upstart helped a wobbling naboo back to a silver airspeeder with a bright red bike attached, ready to head to their makeshift “home” for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

_Grand Cardooine Hotel_

_Tourist District_

_Cardooine_

The receptionist looked up at the older man in front of her. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” It had been a busy day for the poor girl. Customers were coming in and out, hustling and bustling. But it was Cardooine’s autumn, and this meant tons and tons of tourists coming in and out hoping to see Cardooine’s galaxy-famous foliage.

“Could you please tell the occupant of suite 714 that his ride has arrived?” The girl couldn’t place it, but something about the old man seemed kind of off. Maybe it was the large, bushy beard, the thick sunglasses, or the heavy coat. He looked dirty and disheveled, like he would be more at home in one of the motels on the other side of the district rather than in a place as luxurious as the Grand Cardooine Hotel. Still, she obliged his request, hailing the guest in suite 714 through the building’s intricate internal comlink system. After repeating the old man’s message, she forwarded a response back to him: that the guest from Room 714 would be down in one moment.

The guest of suite 714, mister Gar Harend according to hotel records, was another odd fit. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all the past few days. His clothes were disheveled, and the bags under his eyes were heavier than whatever the helper droids could carry up to the suites. His hair was tussled and messy, and his breath reeked of alcohol. “Mr. Harend?” the old man asked.

“Y-yeah?” the disheveled guest responded.

“I’m here to take you to your flight,” the old man explained. “Please, follow me to my speeder.” The receptionist helped Mr. Harend check out, and then watched as the old man led him outside. Something sure was odd about the old man. Shame she wasn’t paid enough to care.

++++++

_Dock 43_

_Tourist District_

_Cardooine_

Elsewhere, the crew of the _Big Momma Cool_ once again was starting to get restless again. A loud screech ripped through the upper deck as an R4 unit barreled out of the hangar and into the storage closet, locking the door behind it. Inside the hangar, a delighted series of beeps and whistles could be heard. On the upper deck lounge, the screams did not go unnoticed. “You really ssshould do sssomething about that droid, you know”, Skulrakh said as he fixed himself a glass of juice. “Memory wipesss aren’t really that expensssive, after all.”

Crix put down his datapad. “Look, that thing came with tons of neat tools and gadgets. If I give it a memory wipe, I’d have to track down the software drivers for all those tools. And I don’t even know if it’s even legal to get half that stuff. I’m willing to put up with a few odd personality quirks if it means having something as reliable as R5 when I’m in the cockpit.” He picked the datapad up again and pressed a few buttons, continuing to read the local galactic news. “Besides, he’s a huge hit at parties.”

The older Barabel hissed in disapproval. “He ssstill bulliesss my R4 far too much. Routine checkupsss take much longer sssince poor R4 isss terrified of your R5.” He stirred the glass for a bit, before grabbing a sugar packet from near the coffee machine and pouring it in. “Where do you even find a psssychopath like that, anyway?”

Crix shrugged, not even bothering to look at Skulrakh. “I had been discharged and was looking for gear to start bounty hunting. So I get my ship from a salvage dealer on Rori, but there’s no astromech for it. And since I’ve blown most of my credits on the ship, I really need to get a droid cheap. So anyway, there’s this bum I run into outside the bar. Really seedy-looking motherfragger, and obviously drunk off his ass. He tells me he needs to make this astromech disappear before his parole officer starts asking questions. 50 credits later, the droid’s all mine.” He put down the datapad and picked up his mug of coffee. “What the hell is taking Dar so long? Didn’t he say he’d have brought the mark back by now?”

“Go check the cockpit window. Maybe he’sss pulling up now.” Crix grumbled as he walked down the hall and into to the cockpit, coffee and datapad in hand. Skulrakh sipped his juice. It was a wonderful mixture, made with fresh fruits handpicked from the farms of Yhuli. Ever since he had quit drinking, his tastebuds had been opened up to a multitude of non-alcoholic beverages. Indeed, part of the joy of going freelance was his desire to see the galaxy, and explore what there was outside of the dens of vice he had called home. He smiled warmly, and took another sip. If it wasn’t for his wanderlust and desire to do good in the galaxy, juice like this would make him consider being a farmer.

“Hey Skullie,” Crix interrupted, disturbing the Barabel’s peace. “Do we own a silver B69 Elektra Convertible?”

“That would be Dar’sss ssspeeder, yesss.” He took another sip, letting the juice sooth his temptation to ask Crix how long the speeder had been there. Chances are, when Darro got inside and the mark was secured, he would want another cup of juice to handle the fallout.

“Yeah, this thing’s been flashing its lights at me for a while now. The dockworkers are kind of frustrated with it not moving. You think I should open the doors for him?” Skulrakh sighed. At this rate, he would be going through an entire carton of juice.

+++++

The receptionist looked up at the irritated Zabrak in front of her. “I’m sorry sir, the guest from suite 714 left with his ride a short while ago.” Evidently, that was the wrong answer, as a gloved hand yanked her by the collar, putting her close up to a tattoo-marred face.

“What do you mean, he left with his ride?" The Zabrak snarled, baring his yellow teeth and rancid breath. “WE were the ride.” He gestured to a motley crew of thugs, clad in improvised battle dress. They cheered their boss’s aggression on, some even waving steel pipes and chains around.

“Th-th-the guest left with an old guy, big coat and beard. He was limping, probably a bad leg. D-d-d-dark glasses, couldn’t see his face.” The thug dropped her, letting the poor girl slide back into her chair. He turned to his gang.

“You!” he yelled, pointing at one of his goons. “Call the boss, tell him someone else got our man and he needs to scan every ship leaving the planet! The rest of you, head back to the fighters! Harend either gets away with the boss, or we shut him up for good!”


	5. Chapter 5

_Upper Atmosphere_

_Cardooine_

_Cardooine system, Jospro Sector_

                The _Big Momma Cool_ slowly pulled its front-heavy mass up through the clouds of Cardooine, the extra thrusters just barely managing to help with the massive load the hangar refit put on. When Kar had first seen the ship, she considered it a miracle that the ship could even get off the ground, let alone escape the atmosphere. Still, the clunky old freighter had proved time and time again that it could hold quite a burden. From the cockpit, Kar watched as Darro expertly guided their ascent. Despite the name implying otherwise, the ship was his baby and he handled it well.

                Skulrakh and Crix were on the lower deck, interrogating Harend. Despite his ruse of playing the supposed deliveryman working perfectly, Darro still suspected there was more to the story than basic embezzlement.

“After all,” Darro had explained, “how did Harend get to hide away at the Grand Cardooine hotel of all places? How did he have a ride arranged? And all this wood that he stole, what happened to it? He obviously wasn’t working alone here.”

Kar initially wanted to shrug it off as it not being SFS’s concern, until she remembered that not only would the Cardooine Logging Company pay bonuses for any accessories to the embezzlers, but if he had been working with a smuggler, there was a chance that another bounty would be involved. Smugglers were worth quite a pretty credcoin, especially with the Empire’s various trade restrictions and raised taxes.

                “Hey Kar,” Darro asked. “We should be high enough, can you check out what’s hanging around in orbit?” Kar nodded and got out from her seat by the navigation computer to go sit down in the copilot’s seat. She fired up the sensor package, and performed a quick ping of the area around the planet. The only ship in orbit was a CR-25 _Moonshadow_ -class freighter, using the name _Starscream_. She reported it back to Darro. “Interesting. We’ll probably stick around for a while in orbit, see if any ship tries to leave after us. Might be our getaway pilot.” Kar nodded, and considered herself glad she was up playing co-pilot rather than on the lower deck…

+++++

                Crix slammed Harend back-first into the cell wall. The resounding clang could be heard upstairs. He got up close, face to face with the frightened prisoner. “I’m gonna ask you one more time, and you better not jerk me around. Who set you up with that getaway?”

“I already told you man, I don’t know!” Harend’s haggard condition wasn’t really being helped by Crix’s abuse. Since he had gotten out of the speeder, he’d suffered a good deal, first with Kar’s restraining efforts and then Crix’s abusive “interrogation” tactics. The slam lit his back up in pain, but at this point it was just another injury.

Crix brought his knee up hard, landing soundly in between Harend’s legs. He let go, letting the beaten man double over in pain. “So you’re telling me you swipe all this high-end luxury wood from the back of the landspeeder, and you have no idea who you sold it to or who sets you up with a nice hotel room with a promise of picking you up?” Harend whimpered in the affirmative. Crix snarled. “You must think I’m an idiot, don’t you? You know what? Frag you, I’m getting my lizard friend.” He turned around and stormed out of the cell.

“I asssume you learned nothing?” Skulrakh asked, waiting for Crix in the hallway. Two-One was at his side, eager to get at the new patient. It was no secret Skulrakh disapproved of Crix’s roughhousing of prisoners. Crix had sometimes asked to learn Skullie’s old “enhanced interrogation” techniques, but he had been turned down at every opportunity. Still, the two had built an effective dynamic together as an interrogation team. Crix would beat and berate the prisoner, and Skulrakh would win his trust by having Two-One patch him up. It was crude, but it worked surprisingly well.

“He’s obviously lying. I’m gonna go get R5 and get his help next time you tag me in.” Skulrakh hissed in disappointment. The barabel had a variety of hisses for different emotions, and no one but Dar could tell them apart. Kar was too new, and Crix just flat-out didn’t care. He motioned for Two-One, and stepped into the holding cell.

                At this point, Harend was curled up in a fetal position, shivering on the floor. Again, Skulrakh hissed in disappointment. Fear clouded a target’s mind, making them too prone to divulge faulty information. It made interrogation extremely difficult. He listened to the medical droid’s diagnosis. Fairly typical: plenty of bruising, a broken nose, possible broken ribs as well. He watched as the droid slowly began to apply some painkillers, helping Harend to sit up on the bed. Skulrakh, not wishing to seem too intimidating, squatted down to reach eye level.

Harend slowly looked up. “I-I-I don’t know anything! I swear!” He was shaking at the sight of the massive lizard and his enlarged teeth pulled back into a horribly failed attempt at a warm sort of grin.

“Of courssse you don’t,” Skulrakh responded. “we’ve essstablished by now what happensss to liarsss. It’sss ovbviousss that whoever you were in contact with wasss covering hissss tracksss.” Harend seemed to relax. “But that begsss the quessstion, how did you get in contact with him?”

“Holonet,” Harend responded. “This guy, he said he was from some sorta trade association or union or somethin'. Was hoping to get some wood for less than retail price. Knew that it was more than what I was getting paid. Said he’d come and pick up the first shipment today.” Skulrakh nodded understandingly. For whatever reason, the mark was always more cooperative with him. He had the suspicious feeling that it was more than painkillers Two-One injected captured marks with.

“Did he sssay anything elssse?” Skulrakh asked.

“Not really, just that his association or whatever would almost certainly take care of me…” Harend drifted off as he saw the door open up behind Skulrakh. Hearing it slide open, he turned around to face Kar.

“We’ve got incoming fighters, definitely hostile. Suit up and get ready to launch.” Her voice was calm, but there were thin hints that she was looking forward to the upcoming conflict. Skulrakh simply nodded, telling Harend to hold his thoughts for a moment and that he’d be right back.

“Guess that’s what they meant by taking care of me…” Harend muttered as the two left his cell.


End file.
